


Kiss the Rain

by DLanaDHZ



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-12 23:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21484414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ
Summary: “Our senses are the same when it comes to basic pressure stimuli. It's comforting to know we share that in common. It helps to think that, wherever we are, if we're both standing in the rain, we are feeling the same thing."Connor has to leave to help Jericho find stability. Neither he nor Hank look forward to the separation, but Hank cannot go where only androids belong and Connor cannot stay until the new laws are passed. Luckily, there’s something this android and human have in common that they can look to for comfort in the time between meetings.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 22
Kudos: 116





	Kiss the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a longer fic, but this one was finished first. I absolutely love this game and all the options and characters it gave us.
> 
> All I really want is a picture of Connor standing, arms open, in the rain. Beautiful
> 
> Fic inspired by the song 'Kiss the Rain' by Thriving Ivory. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QC1GeasAUTY

The sky was dark with clouds, the air thick with the promise of rain. Hank didn’t need Connor’s sensors to know it would be a little while before the rain began and pelted the slush left behind by the previous night’s snow. That was just his knowledge as someone who’d grown up in Michigan.

In front of him, the leaders of Jericho were standing in the street with a few of the androids they had freed. Their revolution had been a success, so far at least. Hank, the only human for miles, had the honor of speaking with Markus himself. Though they had never met before, Markus seemed to enjoy their conversation, smiling and becoming serious in turns. In a stroke of irony, Connor had been the one to ask Hank to meet and yet Markus had done all the talking. Markus had been very interested to meet the human who had helped their march, who had helped Connor so much and supported him in his deviancy. It was an interesting conversation to be part of, but Hank had hoped to have a moment alone with Connor to be honest.

In true Hank fashion, he mostly grunted and smiled his way through the conversation. They were discussing how much work there was still to do. Jericho would need to be rebuilt, somewhere more sturdy and permanent. Markus, or one of his generals, would need to speak with lawmakers and go to D.C., or else begin with the local Michigan senate. Laws needed to be rewritten or else introduced. Androids had to be freed, not just in Michigan but across the country, across the world. There was a lot to do, and Hank had some good pointers of which heads to knock together to get things started.

When the sun began turning the dark sky gray, North cleared her throat, disturbing the still November air. All eyes turned to her and she motioned with her head that it was time to leave.

“Well,” Markus said and held his hand out. “It was nice to meet you, Hank. Thank you for everything you did for Connor.”

Hank took the hand awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Don’t thank me. I’m just the old man that got assigned the case. The kid did all the heavy lifting.”

Markus’ eyes narrowed curiously. He had no LED for Hank to check, so he had no ideas about the man’s emotions. “Is that so? Well whatever the case, thank you. I’ll try to make this transition as smooth and quick as possible. You have my word.”

Hank grunted his agreement and glanced to Connor, standing relatively still on the side of the road. Snow had caught in his hair, but he didn’t notice. He simply watched the interaction like a bystander in a play. Though his face was passive, Hank didn’t miss the way the android’s LED circled between blue and yellow. He was thinking hard about something.

“Markus,” the other pale male android, Simon, called out. He stepped up to Markus, anxiety on his face. “We have to go.”

Markus looked like he might tell Simon to calm down, but instead of speaking he simply held his hand out to Simon. The other android didn’t even hesitate to take the offering and then both of their hands were white. Their eyes slipped closed and for a moment they seemed truly at peace. Simon’s LED flickered different shades of blue, and then he was smiling. He smiled easier than the other androids, Hank noticed. That made sense for a home model.

Their hands parted, their skin reappearing, and then Simon nodded and began to walk away. Markus glanced at Connor and it was like they were speaking telepathically. Not fair but definitely cool.

“Come on,” Markus finally said, moving to follow Simon. “Connor will join us at the trucks.”

As he passed North, the woman took his hand and they strode purposefully away from the intersection. Three other androids followed their leader, and then it was just Connor and Hank standing in the chill air. The temperature had risen in the night, melting the snow, and it stood in mushy piles along the street. Hank kicked at a pile and it splattered in an ugly pattern.

“So you’re going with them, then?” Hank asked.

“It’s the best scenario. They need a negotiator. Markus is a charismatic speaker, but he isn’t designed for the legal battles to come. I was programmed with lawful and political protocols. My knowledge and skill set will be crucial.” Even as he said it, his eyes dropped away. He couldn’t hold Hank’s gaze, and his LED revealed his anxious thoughts. He was nervous, but that was logical too. Hank would also be nervous in his shoes.

Connor had been stuck between two impossible choices, just as Kamski had said. But he’d chosen freedom over blind obedience. It was the right choice, even if not everyone could see it yet. If Connor hadn’t helped the revolution, the people of Jericho would have died. If Connor hadn’t deviated, Cyberlife would have eventually deemed him outdated and replaced him. He would have died without ever knowing freedom. If Hank had to do it all again, he’d support Connor’s choices all the same.

He’d grown to really like the android. Best partner he’d ever had, even if they’d only known each other a few days.

“Hey,” Hank began, trying to wipe the stressful look off Connor’s face. “How’s that work?”

The beginnings of rain began to fall and the two quickly stepped up to a nearby shop front, standing under its awning. “You’ll have to be more specific, Lieutenant.”

Hank wiggled his fingers. “That hand thing you all do. I know it’s some kind of data transfer thing, but like… that doesn’t feel strange to you? Someone else in your head?”

Connor smiled slightly at him, amused. “It doesn’t feel like someone in your mind. They only see what you want them to see. It’s no different than you interviewing a witness, only it’s more accurate, more truthful. There’s no way to lie.”

“Mmm.” Hank stared at the street as the rain melted holes in the frosty surface. “Still gotta feel funny on your hand, though, right? Like static electricity or something.”

Connor hummed. “Think of it this way, Lieutenant. Put your hand out like this.” He reached out from under their dry covering, let the rain run over his skin.

Hank did as he was told, reaching out and letting the cuff of his jacket grow damp. The rain wasn't hard, but it was quick. The tickle of sensation drummed all over Hank’s palm and he grunted.  
  
“It feels like this. A harmless pressure as the connection is made. Painless. And…” Connor paused and Hank chanced a look at his partner. Connor's eyes were shut, as if he needed to concentrate on the rain and couldn't multitask like an android. “I didn't notice before but... it's rather beautiful. The connection to the world around you. The transfer of information. Can you feel that?”  
  
Hank grunted again and focused on his hand. A transfer of information? He wasn’t an android. He doubted he could really understand what Connor was trying to say, but he tried. With a deep breath, he shut his eyes like Connor.  
  
He didn’t often stand in the rain or even put only a hand in it. He pretty much never just let himself feel anything these last few years. But ever since the deviancy problem, ever since Connor, he’d let the numbness of alcohol taper off. Though he wasn't "sober" by AA standards. Not by a long shot.  
  
He’d decided to stop drinking just after he’d helped Connor get into the evidence locker. It felt like the right thing to do because it had suddenly seemed that there was something worth remembering, something to be sober for. At first he thought it was a renewed spark for his job, or that he needed his wits during this whole android revolution and policy upheaval business. He needed to have a clear head so he could be a good detective, a helping hand in this time of change. And those thoughts were true. But…  
  
There was something that tied it all together, something that drew him away from the bottle the other night, when he’d been tempted to drink instead of worry.  
  
He glanced again at Connor, saw the way the android had turned off the skin on his hands. He was reaching out to the rain like it could give him a hug. His jacket was wet up to the elbows but he didn't care. Of course he didn't. He was an android. A smile tugged his lips up, as true a smile as Hank had ever seen on his face.  
  
He looked peaceful. He looked like a reason to stay sober.  
  
“Can you feel it, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, voice quiet.  
  
Hank felt wet. And a little silly. But he thought he kind of got it. The rain felt gentle on his skin, and when you concentrated on that contact there was a sort of feeling. Like you were connected to something bigger than yourself.  
  
“Yeah. I think I do.” He admitted and shut his own eyes to soak it in.  
  
“The rain feels the same all over the city.” Connor said, still speaking softly. “It helps to think that, wherever we are, if we're both standing in the rain, we are feeling the same thing.”  
  
Hank opened his eyes and found Connor staring back at him.  
  
“Our senses are the same when it comes to basic pressure stimuli. It's comforting to know we share that in common.” The android smiled and Hank felt his stomach flip.  
  
“Yeah, maybe. But you don’t get cold from standing in the rain too long.” It was pedantic but Hank never claimed to be smart. He should have just agreed. He liked having things in common with Connor, things that linked them beyond their humanity.  
  
Connor considered the words carefully. He shifted his gaze slowly out into the growing storm. The rain was coming down harder now, and Hank pulled his hand back in. Connor left his out in the open. “I can feel the temperature change,” he said. “If I were to adjust my sensitivity settings, I could probably feel it like you do. I could feel the rain and the cold.”  
  
His LED spun blue and Hank sighed.  
  
“Connor you don't have to do that,” he began but Connor's eyes had shifted, narrowed. He tested his fingers in the downpour, and Hank knew the sensitivity settings had already been altered. “Why do you do this stuff? It's pointless. Feeling physical things like a human does... you don't gotta do that to be alive, ya know.”  
  
The world could overwhelm you if you let it, and he didn't want Connor to regret deviating.  
  
“I like it,” Connor said. He flashed that small smile again. “It makes me feel closer to you.” Then he stepped out from under the awning and into the rain.  
  
“Con-,” Hank cut himself off. It was too late.  
  
Connor was quickly soaked. His jacket sagged, his button down shirt clung to his perfectly designed torso, and his smoothed-back hair was weighed down and mussed by the water. His arms were still outstretched as he let himself feel the weight and the cold of the November rain.  
  
God, he looked...  
  
The android's lips parted slightly, letting the rain water bounce off his lips and into his mouth as he raised his face to the sky. He was probably analyzing the rain with his tongue. Hank swallowed thickly. He'd never thought of rain as intimate before, but watching Connor interact with it made everything feel somehow more intense.  
  


“Connor,” he called, too quietly to be heard over the rain.  
  
He watched the android experience weather for a moment longer. ‘It makes me feel closer to you,’ he’d said. Their ‘pressure stimuli’ were the same.  
  
Hank twitched as the rain came down on his head, stepping out to meet Connor. He had never liked walking in the rain, but the sudden need to be close to Connor was more powerful than his discomfort.  
  
When his arm touched Connor’s, the android shut his mouth and looked over at him.  
  
“Hank. You'll catch a cold,” he warned, eyebrows drawing down in concern.  
  
“You look like a frickin idiot,” Hank countered. “Like you're trying to kiss the sky.”  
  
A new curiosity came over Connor’s face and Hank wasn't sure if it was confusion or flirtation. Wow, he never thought he'd mix those up.  
  
“It would be an interesting experiment, as I’ve never kissed anyone or anything before. Rain could be my first kiss.” He winked, fucking winked, and Hank couldn't stand it.  
  
“Fuck that. If it’s your first kiss, it’s gotta be a real one,” he growled.  
  
“But the rain is right here,” Connor said. He let his eyes glance around coyly. “Unless you know someone else willing to kiss an android.”  
  
It was a taunt. Connor was leaving and Hank was feeling for the first time in years so he probably shouldn’t trust his emotions anyway, and he should just ignore that little smirk and that little taunt. Hank knew it was a taunt.  
  


He stared ahead into the eyes of his ex-partner, watched Connor blink away the rain and found he actually wanted to give into that taunt. He wanted to show Connor what a kiss could be, but instead he took a deep breath and pulled himself forcefully away. He could show Connor a true kiss, but that didn’t make the feelings real. It was just a taunt.  
  
“Can’t help ya there,” he said with a rough clearing of his throat. “I changed my mind. You can make out with the rain all you want.”  
  
“Hank,” Connor began but Hank cut him off.  
  
“Come on. I'll get sick if I keep standing in this storm.” He shrugged his soaking jacket further on. “It’s fuckin’ November. What kind of idiot-“

He didn’t finish, just turned and walked back toward where he’d parked. He didn’t have to look to know Connor would follow. It was strange to think that Connor wouldn’t be doing that, following him, come tomorrow. Tomorrow, Hank could very well be the only human left in Detroit. What a world they were living in.

At the car, Hank finally turned and Connor was there behind him. Something warm built in Hank’s chest despite the cold of the rain.

“How long you gonna be gone, then?” he asked.

“I can’t be sure,” Connor answered honestly. “But I promise I’ll be back as soon as my work permits.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” Hank said, nodding. Then he gave a smile, more of a grimace. “Look, you just do what you gotta do and I’ll do what I gotta do. Alright? And we’ll be fine.”

A new look of concern crossed Connor’s face, but it was only a slice of his previous anxiety. “We will?” he asked. Water ran down his face, slipping off his hair and rolling over his cheeks. He looked like a drowning puppy, damn it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we will,” Hank assured. He pat the roof of his old car. “Take care of yourself, Connor.” Then he opened the door and slid in.

“You too, Lieutenant,” Connor said. The door snapped shut, cutting off the water and the sound of Connor speaking.

The android didn’t leave, though. He stepped up close to the car and placed his hand on the roof above Hank. Through the door, Hank couldn’t understand what he said, but he could hear the way Connor tapped the roof. Connor’s gentle face smiled in at him, and Hank couldn’t help but smile back. He reached up and placed his palm flat on the ceiling, hopefully matching where Connor’s was on the outside.

“I’m gonna miss you, kid,” Hank said, not nearly loud enough to be heard, but hell Connor could probably read lips.

Connor smiled a little more, tapped the roof once again, and then he turned and walked off into the rain. He must have turned his sensitivity down, because he didn’t even shiver. Hank did though, and he rubbed his arms as his heater kicked in, trying to stave off the sudden chill in his bones. He was alone again, but it wasn’t going to be forever this time. The truth was that, even though no one else was in the car with him, he wasn’t really alone at all, now was he?

\--- --- ---

  
The government had halfway houses set up for the evacuated citizens of Detroit, for those who had no family to stay with. Hank had Cole's maternal grandparents down in Florida, and they were honestly surprised he was still breathing. When he arrived two days after evacuating, they looked as shocked as if a zombie had rung their doorbell. To be fair, Hank might look similar to one. Driving seventeen hours with a Saint Bernard that needed to take pee breaks and trying to stop overnight somewhere that liked pets was not beneficial to a healthy glow – not that Hank had even started with a healthy glow.  
  
"You look... better," they said. "I mean, you still look like shit, but there's something about your eyes."  
  
Maybe they were onto something, because Hank definitely felt different. Maybe better. He wasn't sure on that yet.  
  
The evacuation was temporary, just while the social structure was hashed out. Over the next two weeks, Hank tried to make himself useful, tried to keep his dog from killing chickens, and he watched the news a lot.  
  
Markus and the president were featured prominently. Markus speaking in front of the Senate took a whole day, with live coverage. He could filibuster better than a human, definitely helped along by the fact that he didn't need to breathe, to sit, or to use the bathroom.  
  
Sitting in a near stranger's living room, Hank smiled and quietly cheered him on. His in-laws sat with him whenever they were around. Mostly they bemoaned the ghostlike state of Detroit they saw on the news, but to Hank's relief they never said a cross word about the androids.  
  
"Did you guys have an android?" Hank asked one morning as the news anchor announced a set of new laws had been presented to Congress for approval.  
  
"Oh. Yes, we did," his mother-in-law said, frowning. "I miss her."  
  
"She left as soon as the protest began," his father-in-law grunted. "Said she was afraid. 'Fraid of what? We never treated her wrong. Bet she's never comin’ back. ‘Was just lookin for an excuse to leave.”  
  
"Don't say that!" His mother-in-law cried. "She loves us! She'll come back when it's safe."  
  
They devolved into a minor squabble, nitpicking details of how the farewell had gone and what variables there were. Hank kept watching the news, where a story about CyberLife was playing. They had begun sending out refunds for the androids that had been destroyed, but there was still debate about how much was due to the people whose androids were still fully operational, just deviant.  
  
"What about you, dear?" His mother's voice caught his attention.  
  
"Hm? What about me?" Hank grunted and accepted a stack of plates from her. They were setting the table for a proper breakfast. Weird.  
  
"Did you have an android?" she clarified.  
  
Hank frowned hard and glanced back at the TV. The story was still about androids, about CyberLife, but in the background was a familiar profile, a familiar suit. Despite himself, Hank felt his chest loosen a bit. Connor was on live TV, even if he wasn’t the focus. He was alive.  
  
"Nah. He was never mine," he said.  
  
He felt an urge to find a good bottle of gin, and that was an interesting response to relief. What was weirder was how he squashed the urge down by remembering Connor's concerned face as he said, "You should stop doing that." on the bridge. It had pissed him off at the time but in hindsight he heard the honest concern.  
  
Fine. No gin. Or whiskey. Or any of his usual vices. Damn androids.  
\--- --- ---  
  
At the end of the second week, Hank was sprawled on the couch, half asleep and half petting Sumo behind the ears. He missed his house, as much of a shit hole as it was. He missed Detroit.  
  
Florida rained all the time. It was December and hot and wet, and he hated it. The sound of rain was lulling him into a soft sleep but that didn't mean he liked it.  
  
His phone chimed with a message and he grunted as he regained full consciousness. No one had messaged him since Jeffrey had made sure he was still alive just after the protests completed. Hank had told his boss where he was going but they hadn't spoken since.  
  
It was not Jeffrey this time. Rubbing his face, Hank checked the time on his screen. Nearly 1 a.m. Who the fu–

  
'Are you awake?'  
  
The number it was sent from initially looked like a spam of information too long to be a phone number, but once Hank’s eyes had adjusted he realized he recognized it. It was Connor's serial number.  
  
'I am now,' he sent back. Hank sat up gruffly and ran a hand through his hair. 'Everything alright?'  
  
It was a bit strange to think that Connor could text from his head. But since he obviously could, Hank didn't know why a response was taking so long. His heart beat a little harder, imagining all the reasons Connor could be delayed. Was he hurt? Was he in trouble?  
  
'Can you go outside?' Connor finally sent.  
  
Hank glanced at the front door. 'Are you here?'  
  
Connor should be up north. Even so, Hank pushed off the couch with a rush of anticipation. Had Connor come to Florida?  
  
'No.' Connor's message came through just as Hank grabbed the door handle.  
  
He squinted at the phone. 'Then why do I need to go outside? It's raining.'  
  
Again, Connor did not answer quickly. Hank eased the door open, cautiously looking around the small yard his in-laws had in their retirement community. Nothing seemed unusual. Just wet.  
  
'It's raining here as well,' Connor finally said.  
  
Oh. Oh, Jesus. Hank ran a hand over his face and tried to squash the strangely pleasant twisting in his chest.  
  
'I apologize, Lieutenant. Both for waking you and for the odd request. Please ignore what I said and return to bed.'  
  
Hank typed as quickly as his clumsy fingers would allow. 'I'm outside,' he sent and then stepped outside to make it true. There was a tiny overhang outside the door that kept him from getting instantly wet and he stood in its protection, rubbing his arms.  
  
'I apologize,' Connor said again. Then, so quick Hank was sure it was being said before Connor thought better of it, he added, 'I miss you.'  
  
Oh, that made Hank warm at his core. It had been a long time since anyone had said they missed Hank. Usually people couldn't wait for him to leave. He just had that effect on… well, everyone.  
  
Before Hank could think better of it either, he admitted, 'You know, I didn't think I could miss your nagging, but I kinda do.'  
  
'I apologize.'  
  
Rolling his eyes, Hank sent, 'stop apologizing, you idiot. I just said I miss you too.'  
  
'Oh.'  
  
Sighing, Hank slipped his phone into his pocket. The sky rumbled threateningly and Hank grunted in response. Great, he was arguing with storm clouds. He stared out at the green grass and pressed his lips together. The last time they’d been together, Connor had been standing in a soggy, gross Detroit street, but Hank could imagine him standing here, surrounded by a landscape as alive as he was.  
  
He put his hand out in the rain, remembered the way Connor had wriggled his fingers and imitated it.  
  
Pulling his phone back out, he asked, 'Hey, are you standing in the rain?'  
  
Hank sure as hell didn't want to get wet if Connor was in a fuckin meeting or something.  
  
An image was sent before any words. It showed the top of a building with a view of the Detroit River, the Ambassador Bridge running off into the distance. Everything was shaded and blurred with rain. Jesus. Connor could send images of what he was looking at. That was better than any camera or go-pro.  
  
'Affirmative. I like the feeling.'  
  
Well shit. Hank rubbed his face again. He rubbed his hand on his t-shirt to dry it, like he wasn't about to get soaked. God he felt like he was twenty years younger, doing something this silly and sentimental. With a deep breath, he stepped forward into the rain. Florida was hotter than Detroit but rain was still wet. He shivered and thanked the universe that the rain was warmer here. Not warm, but warmer.  
  
Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the discomfort of getting wet and focus on the feeling of the water hitting his skin. Connor could feel this. If they were beside each other, Connor could comment on the temperature or the weight of the drops. Why did rain seem heavier in Florida?  
  
In his mind, Hank could still see Connor, arms stretched out, face angled up.  
  
'You still trying to kiss the rain?' Hank texted. Thank goodness for waterproof phones.  
  
'No. Someone told me I shouldn't waste my first kiss on weather.'  
  
That got a snort out of Hank. He smiled. This damn android thought he was so funny.  
  
'Well how about you just high five the rain, then? I'll meet you halfway.'  
  
Did that make it sound like Hank would have kissed the sky with Connor too? Oh well, they were passed that now. And Hank didn't want to dwell on how true or not that statement was. He was too old to be kissing anyone, much less handsome young androids. But he could high-five.  
  
Hank put his hand up to the sky just as an image came through on his phone: A stormy sky with Connor's hand raised up to meet it. Smiling, Hank snapped a return photo of his own hand held up. Standing in the rain, shivering and watching the drops run down over his arm, Hank felt closer to Connor than he had to... pretty much anyone in years. Damn. How did an android manage to draw out that emotion from a fuck up like Hank? After the last several years, Hank had been prepared to spend his life in a constant numbness, or angry. Definitely never expected to form any new attachments to anyone or anything, not even his toaster. Yet here he was high-fiving Connor across the country.  
  
After a long moment, Hank dropped his arm and yawned. As if Connor could hear him, a message came through.  
  
'It's late. Go inside, Lieutenant. Don't catch a cold.'  
  
No need to tell Hank twice. He quickly returned to the dry, cool interior of his in-law’s house and moved to grab dry clothes. Trying not to drip absolutely everywhere, he scurried into the nearest bathroom.  
  
When he was dry and changed, he paused to look at himself in the mirror. None of his notes from home glared back at him. There was a palm tree night light plugged in and some gaudy beach wallpaper. Everything was pristinely clean, which was also different. Everything was so positive and calm that Hank felt uncomfortable and yet somehow encouraged.  
  
He left the bathroom and grabbed his phone from where he'd dropped it by his bags. There was no new message from Connor.  
  
'How's life as an android spokesperson?' Hank asked.  
  
'Frustrating. Human politicians are stubborn and hard to work with.'  
  
Hank chuckled out loud. 'I thought you were designed to handle difficult people. You worked with me, after all.'  
  
'You're different. Self loathing and anger are traits that can be improved on. Bigotry and racism are harder to work with.' Then, quickly, ‘No offense.’

‘I suppose none taken,’ Hank said and grunted. It wasn’t a secret that Hank was a surly son-of-a-bitch. Even Connor had commented on it at their first trip to Chicken Feed. ‘Don’t let those assholes in Washington get you down. You’re doing a great job.’

‘Your confidence is encouraging, Lieutenant.’

‘dammit, Connor. We’re not at work anymore. you can call me Hank.’ All this ‘Lieutenant’ stuff was seriously hurting Hank’s feeling of closeness to his ex-partner.

Connor took so long to respond that Hank had enough time to sigh gruffly, like the crazy old man he was, and rub his face vigorously. Did it really matter what Connor even called him? He’d called him ‘Lieutenant’ for most of their relationship. What did it matter if he kept doing it?

His phone buzzed.

‘Thank you, Hank.’

A soft sigh escaped Hank and he nodded. It did kind of matter, he supposed, because it felt good when he heard, or read, Connor being on a first name basis with him. It felt good. And that was such a change for Hank.

‘It’s stopped raining. I think I’ll go in stasis for a few hours. Good night, Hank.’

‘Good night, Connor,’ Hank replied.

It was nearly two in the morning by then, and Hank sank back onto the couch with a yawn. As soon as he was lying down, Sumo came up beside him to get his ears scratched. Hank obliged, smiling slightly at the ceiling. The sound of the rain outside was even more comfortable than he remembered it being an hour ago. Exhaustion came for him, and he drifted to sleep, listening to the sound of the Florida rain but imagining a morning in Detroit. Ha. He’d finally lost his mind, apparently.

\--- --- ---

A month out, a system was in place to get Detroit up and running again. The government was stubborn, as always, but the impending crisis with Russia was a motivator to solve the android problem quickly. And while the whole world was dealing with android rebellions, the president and her cabinet wanted to show everyone how progressive America was. Like 'look here, we solved the issue before everyone else'.  
  
It was a lot of political bullshit.  
  
Androids had the ability to register as citizens and the majority were lighting up the internet to do so. Several stayed in Detroit but a lot decided to move out, explore the world they now had the option to see. Job applications went to corporations, androids were officially hired. The ‘fair’ wage law passed, but the word was debatable. They got a paycheck, but they weren't paid equally by a long shot. They made half as much as humans, the argument being that they didn't need to buy groceries or other human necessities. Less to pay for, less pay.  
  
The androids accepted the concession, but Hank knew it was only the beginning. Changes would come.  
  
But on the bright side, humans could begin moving back into Detroit. In that first month, it seemed only those loyal to the city came flooding back. Despite the common belief by naysayers, all got their jobs and houses back. No one was displaced. In fact, several opened their doors to the homeless androids and just started charging them rent. A roommate who didn't eat your food and could act like a walking internet search was definitely a bonus for several people.  
  
Hank returned, of course. He'd texted Connor to let him know, but Connor was in DC. The android bemoaned his inability to be there and welcome Hank home properly, but he hoped Hank found the transition smooth.  
  
When Hank pulled up to his house, he already knew something was off. The main clue was that his yard was mowed. The gutters on his roof were clear. The house may even have been pressure washed, but he wasn't sure.  
  
Cautious, he unlocked the front door. Sumo bounded in, carefree and happy to be home. He flopped down on his bed and refused to move from the comfort of normalcy. Standing in the doorway, Hank took stock.  
  
It was clean. The trash and bottles were gone. The dishes were washed and put away. Everything smelled... fresher.  
  
Cole's photo was still on the table, but now it was standing up. His smiling face greeted Hank. Chest aching, Hank quickly walked over and turned the photo around. He still wasn't ready.  
  
But the house had been taken care of. He'd wonder by whom, but that wouldn't make him a very good detective.  
  
'The house looks...'  
  
He frowned and erased the message.  
  
'Thanks,' he said instead. Simple and to the point.  
  
He stepped into the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot. Before the water had even begun to heat, Connor responded.  
  
'You're welcome, Hank.'  
  
The lieutenant smiled and reached for the coffee grounds.  
  
'I tried not to disturb things too much, and Cole kept me company. It was calming.' Connor sounded like such an old soul - cleaning to de-stress. And what he said about Cole...  
  
Hank glanced over at the frame while the water started boiling. His son had kept his android company. The fact that Connor could say things like that, could sound so human and feeling about a photograph of someone he never knew – it was still amazing to consider.  
  
Slowly Hank reached out and grabbed the frame. With a deep breath, he turned the photo around and looked into the smiling face of his son.  
  
Ok. Maybe he could keep Cole facing out. Just for a little while.  
\--- --- ---  
  
By three months, the city was getting on track. A lot of Hank's coworkers had returned, including Fowler. Reed had yet to return, thank God. Word was he joined some unofficial union of other dipshits in Rochester and was fighting to end the fragile peace. What a piece of shit. Hank had possibly looked up the asshole's address and then submitted a donation to pro-android charities in his name. The detective would be receiving thank you gifts for weeks. That should raise enough questions from his new ‘friends’ to give him his comeuppance.  
  
The whole department was expected to keep up with the new android laws, but no one was more intent upon that goal than Hank Anderson. There was a debrief with the whole bullpen after each new passing law, and Hank took it as his new job to ensure everyone actually paid attention.  
  
"Never thought I'd see the day Anderson gave a shit about his job," an officer grunted. Hank tried not to hold that against the youngster. He hadn't known Hank before the accident.  
  
A new task force was created to handle android cases- an example to the rest of the country. Androids may have rebelled across the country but everyone knew Detroit was the origin point. Detroit was the hub.  
  
No one was shocked to hear Hank was in charge of the new task force. Before the official announcement, Fowler called Hank into his office to make sure there wouldn't be a fight about it.  
  
"Count me in," Hank said.  
  
"Seriously? Six months ago you wanted nothing to do with androids and now you don't mind being made their champion?"  
  
"Things are different now, Jeffrey. You know that. Look at the fucking state of the union! They have emotions! They have rights now!"  
  
"And you became friends with one of their leaders." The statement verged on an accusation. Fowler sighed, rubbing his temples. "Whatever. You have a personal motive. That's fine. Just take it seriously for once, okay?"  
  
"Shut the fuck up, Jeffrey."  
  
They exchanged middle fingers before Hank left the office. No love lost.  
  
The day after, Hank was set up with a new contact list in his email and work phone. He was the new liaison between the DPD and all android hubs. The CyberLife stores-turned-repair-facilities, the new law firm downtown staffed entirely with androids to fight android cases, the office at city hall that (like Hank) had a new job representing androids, and a customer service number and email for CyberLife headquarters. He was beginning to regret taking the job. He was responsible for a lot of shit.  
  
But he wasn't alone. By the end of the meeting announcing the task force, he already had three other detectives signed up to help.  
  
Several old android officers turned up to officially apply for jobs. Fowler accepted them without an interview, too done with politics to give a crap about regulations. He'd lost most of his department and needed to fill the desks.  
  
Soon enough the department was as loud and bustling as it always had been. Somehow the coffee was better. Hank wasn't questioning it.  
  
The desk next to Hank was still empty. Somehow, despite all the hiring and the new task force, no one chose that desk. Hank didn't hold it against anyone. He might like his job again but that didn't mean he overall liked people again.

  
Besides, as far as Hank was concerned, that desk was taken.

And so life went. Months passed. Hank continued his damned sober streak, went to meetings and everything. He’d been born in the generation that accepted counseling as normal and casual, yet somehow he’d always avoided it. AA meetings were very nearly the same shit, and he was surprised by how effective they were.

Connor didn’t come back. That was the real kicker, and the main thing he avoided discussing at meetings. ‘What’s getting you down lately, Anderson?’ Not touching it. So he’d half-lie and blame work. Tell someone your day sucked because of a murder charge or a drug ring issue and they didn’t normally press for details.

Markus continued to be all over the news, but he didn’t dominate anymore. The news was half normal and half android-revolution related. Androids in Tennessee did this, androids in Wyoming did that, and so on and so forth. Sometimes Hank caught sight of Connor in a wide shot of a rally or a riot or on a stage somewhere. On one occasion, Connor actually did the talking. Hank recorded it to watch and rewatch later. It had been a live stream of Connor addressing Congress. He was passably pleasant and respectable, but also determined and unrelenting. The way Hank saw it, Connor was treating Congress like the assailant in a hostage situation – apply just enough pressure to get the desired outcome but not so much that they self-destruct and take everyone out with them.

It was a bit odd to feel so proud of someone he barely saw in person. But not so odd when Hank considered that Connor managed to have at least one texting conversation with Hank every week. Connor couldn’t discuss his work much, but he told Hank about things he’d experienced – different weather and people, different animals. Connor was discovering the world, and Hank was his confidant.

Hank kind of loved it but he’d definitely prefer if Connor was just fuckin there in person. Jesus. Shut up. He was starting to sound heartsick or some shit. Get over it, old man. Damn it.

But it was still true, no matter how much Hank berated himself. He missed Connor something fierce.

\--- --- ---

Connor sent a celebratory gift basket when Hank received his one-year coin. It was… sweet. It had a to-go grooming kit, and dog magnets, and ice cube trays that made the ice shaped like paws, and a new leash, and –

‘Did I reach one year of sobriety or did my dog? I can’t tell with this basket,’ Hank texted after emptying the thing on his kitchen table.

‘Apologies. I went overboard when thinking of Sumo.’ Connor was such a dork. ‘Another gift is coming tomorrow. It’s a new record player. I noticed your current one was broken when I cleaned the house.’

Jesus. Hank looked over at the old clunky machine and took a deep breath. ‘You really didn’t need to do that. It’s just a one year coin.’

‘I know how important this is to you, and I wanted to be supportive. I cannot be there in person, so please accept the gift.’

Letting out his breath, Hank half-chuckled. ‘Then thanks. You’re a fucking weirdo you know that?’

‘I’m told it’s one of my finer qualities,’ Connor replied, and that just made Hank laugh again. This android was so goofy and extra, but there was nothing to be done about it. There was nothing Hank _wanted_ done about it.

He looked over at his old, broken player and squared his shoulders. Guess it was time to recycle the ancient thing. But first he’d have to clear off the junk that had accumulated around it. Yeesh.

\--- --- ---

Two years. Connor had not returned in almost two years. Despite the distance, Hank had never felt closer to another person in some twenty years than he felt to Connor now. They were up to texting at least once or twice a day. Not full conversations, but still texts. Couldn’t do a video chat with someone who’s phone was their face, so it was all words, no moving images.

Detroit was virtually normal. Most androids had removed their LEDs, so it was hard to tell who was an android and who wasn’t when you passed them on the street. Only problem was, you’d pass three of the same person in one walk. Luckily, Cyberlife had quickly rolled out alteration packages. Androids could purchase new modifications to make themselves more unique.

Hank wondered if Connor had bought any. The android hadn’t brought it up, but if he had bought something Hank wondered what it would be. Would Connor change his preprogrammed hair? His nose? Would he add or remove freckles and moles? Would his eyes be the same brown color when Hank saw them again? Would he look the same when he opened his arms to the sky?

And every time it rained…

Despite everything he’d said about the subject of their last moments together, Hank had quickly discovered he was unable to stop thinking about it – about Connor kissing the rain. Now that he was sober, Hank couldn’t convince himself that he felt nothing. His semi-constant inebriated state back then was the only reason he felt he’d made the right decision. But now? Now Hank regretted it.

He should have kissed Connor. If he’d known then that they wouldn’t see each other for years, he may have even given in. Somehow, despite the chaos of the moment, Hank had expected them to get back to normal pretty quick. He’d expected Connor to come… to come _home_.

Texting was fine and all, but he missed seeing the way Connor’s eyes lit up at the thought of a good lead, and the way he’d rattle off information not necessarily needed for the case – just shit he thought was interesting. Hank missed the stupid way his mouth would pull slightly to the left at times, when he was more stressed. He missed Connor’s stupid hair and his stupid nose and his stupid freckles, and if Connor had changed any of that, he’d be disappointed but it wouldn’t change the fact that he loved –

He loved Connor.

Alcohol had a bad habit of numbing every sense in the body – including the heart. When Hank had started drinking, he’d wanted to squish his heart into a tiny box and let it rot there, but the years had changed his heart, stuck in the box as it was. When the alcohol had quit holding down the lid, his heart had started peeking out, leaking emotion back into Hank’s life, and now his heart was out and proud again.

He missed Connor, and he loved him too.

‘God get your ass back in Detroit now or I’m gonna lose my mind,’ Hank sent one day, too close to sleep to convince himself it was a bad idea. Autocorrect was the only reason it was even legible.

In the morning, he had a response, sent shortly after his initial demand. It said, ‘We’re all homesick. The Jericho party is taking a break after our current round of scheduled events and meetings.’ After twenty minutes of no response, Connor also sent, ‘Sleep well, Hank. I’ll see you soon.’

He felt warm all over. Then immediately dreadful. His house was the furthest thing from ‘ready for company’. Well, maybe not the furthest. Covered in bear bottles and trash everywhere like when he used to drink was further, but his house was still pretty bad. He definitely wasn’t prepared to impress a fuckin’ android.

Sumo boofed in the corner, and Hank snorted. “Shut up, Sumo. I _know_ I don’t have to impress him. But it’s the principle of the thing.”

Work was normal, actually a bit busier than normal, but Hank’s brain was all the way back at his house, scolding him for being a slob. Connor could show up literally any minute, and he wasn’t about to let the guy clean his house for him. Because Connor absolutely would – the weirdo.

The news reported that the Jericho leaders were still in Washington when Hank turned it on during his lunch, but that didn’t faze Hank’s anxiety. He worked overtime, and he glanced so often at the clock that someone asked him if he was late for his kid’s school function or something. Two years ago, Hank would have decked anyone to mention his ‘kid’, but this time he just pushed them out of his way as he went to let his anger out in an interrogation.

As soon as he was allowed to clock out, he raced home like he was worried Sumo had destroyed the house with a poop storm. There was no poop, but he cleaned up like there had been. When he finished, the clock read two in the morning, and Sumo had gone to sleep hours ago.

Hank took out his phone, stared down at the last message from Connor – ‘Sleep well, Hank. I’ll see you soon.’ Soon wasn’t soon enough. Not only did Hank not want to wait, but if Connor took too long the house wouldn’t look this good.

Quietly, Hank slipped outside into the night. Detroit didn’t allow much starlight to get through normally, but Hank could just make out a few in a patch of sky unblocked by clouds or smoke. Before he could lose sight of it, he raised his hand up to the sky and snapped a photo of it. His large hand looked like it might be trying to snatch the clear patch from the sky.

Well it wasn’t gonna get any better with him staring at the photo, and retaking it would just look the same. Old man hands.

He sent the photo without a caption. Then he grumbled and stared around at the old street outside his house. He was glad to live outside of the city center, to be lucky enough to have a yard of his own, but damn his neighbor needed to cut their grass. Some of the houses around here were just disappointing. A sign of the economy. But Hank would stay until they kicked him out again, or until he died. This was his home.

His phone chimed a moment later and he pulled it out, his heart hammering in his chest as he opened Connor’s reply. It was a photo of Connor’s hand, reaching up into a sky that showed far more stars than Detroit. It meant Connor wasn’t in Detroit, but Hank smiled anyway. How ‘bout that? That’s how you knew you had it bad – smiling at stupid shit.

They didn’t send any words that night, but Hank fell asleep peaceful and only woke up when Sumo jumped on him to go out. Hank could get used to that routine. It was hella preferable to how he used to be, but not as good as it could be. Not yet.

\--- --- ---

Only when Connor announced that he’d be returning the next day did it hit Hank that he’d never considered Connor’s feelings. The last two years taught Hank that he loved Connor, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with that stupid, weird android in his life. But Connor was an android. What if he had found someone else, another android or at least someone smarter than Hank, that he loved spending time with? What if he hadn’t but he still didn’t return Hank’s creepy old-man feelings?

He’d planned to tell Connor how he felt when they saw each other again, but as the hours until their meeting dwindled, Hank didn’t know if he could actually go through with it.

The plan was to meet at Hank’s house at five, after Connor got off his flight and made the annoyingly long drive through town. Hank was on his front porch, leaning against the wall and drinking some fresh coffee, at ten minutes ‘til. Originally he’d come out to let Sumo run around the yard, but it had started misting, a precursor of drizzling, so he’d put the dog away. Nothing smelled worse than wet dog.

Okay, so beer vomit smelled worse, but Hank didn’t want either in his house.

Five o’clock. Hank checked his watch, frowned hard, and returned to holding his cooling coffee cup. He’d finished most of it, but it was something to busy his hands. He shifted to lean against the door, like maybe he might go inside. Connor wasn’t the type to be late.

Ridiculous, illogical thoughts popped up in his head. Connor had stood him up. Connor didn’t want to see him. Connor had stayed away for two years because he had finally experienced life and realized life with Hank was a drab and idiotic thing to go back to. What could Hank offer that was better than the world? A tiny, one bedroom house on the outskirts of a dirty city where Connor had almost been killed, where androids were still subject to so much prejudice? Who would want that?

The taxi pulled up four minutes late. As soon as the door was clear, Connor stepped out onto the damp sidewalk and looked up at the house. For a moment, it seemed Connor didn’t even see Hank. He scanned the house from right to left then let his eyes linger on the sight of Hank’s old, rusty car sitting straight in the drive – an improvement since Connor’s last trip, probably. Drunk Hank never could park straight.

God, Connor looked the same as he had two years ago. No Cyberlife adjustments in sight. There were his freckles and his same soft brown hair. His nose had not changed size and his eyes were still brown. Hank let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing, and that’s when Connor’s eyes focused on him. A smile tugged his lips up, still with an uneven tilt. It was still Connor.

“Hank,” Connor greeted, walking quickly to the porch to escape the rising drizzle of rain. The water did little to his bouncy hair or that little tuft that liked to hang down.

“Almost thought you weren’t coming. Not like you to be late,” Hank admitted.

Connor nodded then shrugged. “The traffic was slightly unpredictable. A dog took its own time crossing a busy intersection. I should have told you.”

Hank waved the idea away. “Nah. I wasn’t worried,” he lied. “How was the tour?”

The patter of rain on the porch roof picked up and Connor tilted his head slightly, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Is that what you want to talk about?”

How did one sentence charge the air so easily? Hank felt on trial, caught in his own stalling, his own lies. The air said it was time to spill his secrets to those curious eyes, but his troublesome heart held him back. He was too old for a broken heart.

“Not really,” he admitted. “I kinda don’t give a rat’s ass about DC or Seattle or anywhere else you’ve been. Just glad you’re back, actually.”

That brought the smile back to Connor’s eyes. “Yes. It’s good to be home.”

Shit. Hank reached out to set his coffee on the windowsill, not trusting his hands not to drop it anymore. Connor was here, calling Detroit ‘home’, or maybe Hank’s house ‘home’, or maybe ‘home’ was a state of mind, but the point was Connor was standing on Hank’s porch saying the word ‘home’, and it was fuckin’ raining. Hank always thought about ‘it’ when it rained.

“Hey.” He hesitated then motioned lazily out at the rain. “You, uh, find anyone willing to kiss an android yet?”

A pensive look came over Connor’s face, slackening his features. He glanced out at the rain and the dribbles running off the roof. “No,” he said, but he didn’t sound sad about it. He glanced back at Hank before lowering his gaze to somewhere around Hank’s chest. “I’m surprised. I thought the rain only made _me_ think about that day.”

Hank snorted. “Well how ‘bout that. I can surprise an android.”

“Every day,” Connor replied with so much open earnestness that it left Hank a little winded. “I was programmed to adapt to human unpredictability, but ever since I deviated it’s become clear that life isn’t meant to be predicted. The reason humans are so complex is their ability to become unpredictable at a moment’s notice. Even when I think I know someone, I can’t know for sure what they’re thinking, what they’re feeling. It can be… frustrating.”

“Ha. Those politicians giving you a hard time, huh?” Hank asked, amused.

“Well yes, but I was referring to a more personal level,” Connor admitted. He frowned. “You helped me understand that being a deviant wasn’t wrong, that I was more than what I was programmed to be. I deviated for myself, for my people, but you made it a less terrifying choice. I knew you’d support me if I needed you to.”

“Hell. Of course I would, Connor. Shit. It’d be the least I could do.” The confession almost slipped out – I love you. I’d support you through a second revolution, through anything. – but he managed to hold it back, hold it tight against his chest.

“Of course. And I wanted to support you as well, but I had to make sure that I… That I could function as a person. I couldn’t burden you with teaching me about feelings and the world. That wasn’t your responsibility, and I knew I could gain that experience while helping Markus. So I left. But…” Connor looked back at the rain. He reached out and let the stream of water from the roof roll over his fingers. “I think I’ve figured it out. Enough for now, at least. I wanted to come back, but I wasn’t sure there was a place for me in your life anymore. Two years is a long time for a human.”

“Idiot. I’m the one who asked you to come home,” Hank reminded and didn’t notice his own use of the word.

“I know.” Connor smiled at the rain. “I was happy to hear that. Happier than I’d expected to be.”

He drew his hand back in and stared down at the water still rolling off his skin. He looked so… Peaceful. Hank shoved his hand roughly out into the rain and let it get properly soaked before he ripped it back in. Connor looked mildly alarmed when Hank thrust his wet hand over next to Connor’s.

“It’s the same,” he grunted, feeling like an idiot. He felt his face flushing and cursed. Connor still looked confused. “The feeling, I mean. It feels the same. I mean, I felt the same. _Feel_ the same.” He cleared his throat and hated the way the rainwater was running up his sleeve. “I was stupid happy to see you were coming back.”

Slowly Connor slipped his wet hand into Hank’s, their fingers sliding together. The smile on his face was different now, not joyous or even peaceful. He looked like he was trying to hold back, like he didn’t want to break something, but he was happy about what Hank had said.

It was mutual. A smile started infecting Hank’s face.

“Well I hope you don’t mind that I’m still a crabby old man with self-esteem issues,” he said, but maybe it wasn’t as effective as a self-deprecating comment should be since he was still grinning.

Connor shook his head fondly. “Only if you don’t mind that I’m still made of wires. It appears Pinocchio is only a children’s story.”

Such a weirdo. Hank pointed at the rain with his free hand. “Then I don’t know what you’re waiting for. Go on.”

“Go on and do what?” Connor asked, his thumb caressing Hank’s hand.

“Kiss the rain,” Hank said like it was obvious. This time he motioned with their joined hands.

He didn’t wait for Connor to get it. He just dragged Connor out into the rain, which was heavy enough to be uncomfortable but not heavy enough to force Hank back under cover. They barely left the porch when Connor stopped moving, forcing Hank back in front of him.

“If it’s a first kiss, it has to be a real one,” the android said matter-of-factly. He dropped Hank’s hand to put both of his hands on Hank’s face.

Hank didn’t need any more warning. He cupped his large hand on the back of Connor’s perfectly designed head and leaned in. Rain ran down both their faces, collected in the curve of Hank’s hand and slid down their necks. But it didn't get between their lips.  
  
Connor’s fingers grazed over the older man's beard and up into his hair. His fingers were cold even with all the motors running under his skin. Was it only one kiss if Hank managed to connect their mouths more than once in the same session? He directed Connor’s head to tilt as he tested out what it was like to make out with an android not built for that purpose. Like everything Connor did, he learned quickly and adapted. After a moment, he took control, bending Hank back slightly.

The rain was making their clothes stick and drag. It pulled down on Hank’s hair, and the thought had him breaking the make out session. He wanted to see what Connor looked like all wet again. He looked so human, his hair matted, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted. The rain ran over his cheeks and down his chin, and he just –

“You’re so god damned beautiful,” Hank murmured.

Connor was unflustered. He smiled and leaned in to rub their noses together. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmured back. His fingers were running through Hank’s beard again and making Hank’s body temperature rise. Connor could definitely tell. He was an android, after all.

It was such a movie moment – them standing in the rain, faces close but not kissing. They were barely touching. Connor hand the one hand in Hank’s beard, the other on his waist. Hank was still holding the back of Connor’s neck and hadn’t been sure where to put the other one, so now he brought it up to cover Connor’s on his face. This was the most intimate thing Hank had been a part of in years. They were breathing the same air… if Connor was even breathing.

“Hmm. I’ve had my first kiss now,” Connor mused. “The rain can’t be any better than that.”

“Nope. Rain can’t beat me,” Hank teased. He dragged his hand up into Connor’s hair. “But if you gotta go away with Markus again, it’ll be better than high-fiving.”

Connor hummed and peppered a light kiss on Hank’s lips, like an afterthought. “Markus is visiting his father while he still can. I won’t need to leave for awhile.” He pulled away but linked their hands again. “I think our time could be spent more efficiently inside where it’s dry.”

Hank swallowed thickly. Was Connor suggesting what he thought he was suggesting? Could Connor even do what Hank thought he was suggesting? He was an advanced prototype, so it was possible. Hank just wanted Connor in his life. He hadn’t considered that their relationship could actually get physical. Was this a dream?

“You think?” Hank asked, embarrassed by how his voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat.

Connor turned and began to lead Hank inside. “Yes. For example, I haven’t seen Sumo yet. I missed him too.”

Dreams smothered, Hank pouted. “Yeah, well you better not start making out with the dog too. I don’t share well, especially when it comes to dog slobber.”

At the door, Connor turned and squeezed Hank’s hand. “Don’t worry, Hank. From now on, I’ll only kiss two things – you and the rain.” Then he winked. “Besides, greeting Sumo won’t take that long. Then we can move on to other things.”

Jesus. This android was really gonna kill him. Hank was too old for this. But he wasn’t gonna tell Connor that. No way. He liked it too much.

**Author's Note:**

> You may translate this fic so long as we can link to each other ^_^


End file.
